


when all the storm has fled

by Newtondale



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, fixing Poe's backstory because I simply do not vibe with it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:41:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22246510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Newtondale/pseuds/Newtondale
Summary: “Finn, I need to know, are we-” Poe takes a deep breath, exhaling in a weary sigh. He’s exhausted, suddenly, the weight of the day finally catching up with him, all the stress and the fear that's passed and what’s left to come. He wants to lie down, wants to sleep, but he can’t. He needs to know. "Are we good?”
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 14
Kudos: 268





	when all the storm has fled

When the final Star Destroyer goes dark, no command ship to keep them in the air, Poe knows the battle is over. The war, the longest year of his life, is finally _over._

It’s time to go home. 

There are more of them now than when they set out, their numbers doubled, tripled- there’s no way to tell. Despite the losses that weigh on Poe’s mind, he knows he’s a lucky man to be leaving a war with a bigger command than he started with. There are so many of them, an army big enough to restore the Republic, with him at the head. Him, and Lando and Finn and Rey. Citizens of the old Republic and the new, old heroes and- well. It’s hard to curb his old arrogance with so many people following them away from such a great victory. 

Back at the base, Poe lands roughly, his ship already more than a little beaten and flying crooked, he himself exhausted from too many hours without sleep. He’s not proud of it, usually takes more care with the ship if not himself, but he forgives himself in his desperation to be back on solid ground. He throws open the door, eyes already scanning the crowd for the others, but a medic is on him before his feet even hit the last rung of the ladder

It’s agonizing, more than this injury or any other, to be held still when all he wants to do is _move._ There’s adrenaline racing through him, from victory, from yet another dogfight, from another day surviving despite the odds. In younger years, he thrived on it, _lived_ for it, but now? Now he knows all too well the loss that follows the fight, aches with how close he came today to losing everything, everyone, all over again. His eyes sting with it, with the desperation to reassure himself that, despite the casualties today, he hasn’t lost everything. 

Arm finally secure in a sling, the medic clears him to go. He pulls away just in time to see the Falcon land, is already moving when the door opens and people begin to emerge. He watches them shuffle out, glad that they seem to be unharmed but shamelessly searching their faces for - there. Finn.

Poe picks his way over to the ship, hoping Finn doesn’t get washed away by the tides of people swarming on the landing strip as he himself fights not to be thrown off course. He loses sight of Finn when someone claps him on the shoulder, and he turns to smile at them as they pass. Again, a moment later, and again and again, every one of them vying to find every friend in the crowd, to check others are still alive and to celebrate that they are too. He can’t focus on any of it, can’t focus on _anything_ until he finds Finn, until he knows for sure he’s okay.

A small clearing has formed amidst the chaos. Poe breaks through the small wall of people with more force than he intends, and there he is; half-stumbling, dazed, sweaty and dirty and _exhausted_ like the rest of them. _Finn._

Their eyes meet, and Poe can feel the grin breaking across his face in relief, feel his free hand lift to point at Finn as Finn does the same to him. They crash together, all the force of a battle won, of too much time apart. Poe’s hand finds the back of Finn’s neck like it belongs there - and he cant help but think, as the calm washes over him in the wake of so much dread, that maybe it does. It would be so easy, his face against Finn’s neck, to place a gentle- _no,_ they- 

The crowd draws them apart before he can dwell on it, hands clapping on his back, ruffling his hair, a thousand voices celebrating. And the crowd, the _crowd_ \- finally reunited with Finn, he tries to take it all in, but he can’t. It’s like nothing he’s ever seen, every member of the Resistance coming out the celebrate with them; every pilot, every engineer, every steward and strategist and droid. Everyone who came out to help them today, too, new faces and old friends. It’s loud, the energy electric, buzzing under his skin, inside his head. A laugh bursts from his chest, unable and unwilling to stop himself from joining in. This is everything he’s ever wanted. His people safe, the war won, Finn by his side. All that’s missing is -

Rey.

He spots her across the crowd, feels the moment Finn sees her too. 

There’s no words, nothing to say - they run to her, and she to them, meeting in the middle in a fierce hug. Finn’s arms wind around them both, holding them together, and there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. Finn squeezes them tight, Poe and Rey both clutching at his jacket, their hands meeting on his back. Poe buries his face in Finn’s neck, watches Rey do the same, safe and at home at last. The noise around them fades away, and there’s nothing in the galaxy that matters but the three of them, together; they’re alive, they’re alive, they’re _alive._

And not only that. Everyone here is alive because of them, because of everyone who helped them today. Everyone here, and across the galaxy, gets another day, gets to keep breathing and keep living and keep _fighting_. It’s all they’ve ever wanted, all they’ve fought for, and - this, winning, it’s been unimaginable for so long, that now that it’s here Poe doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do, how he’s supposed to feel.

It’s overwhelming. It’s all he can do to just hold on, keep his arms around Rey and Finn and hope they won’t let him fall. He won’t let them fall. They’ve been through too much together, the three of them, that nothing makes sense without them. He loves them, knows that they love him too, and - even now, even in victory, he can’t ignore the nagging thought in the back of his mind, the voice that will never let him forget how selfish he is for wanting more than this. 

Rey gets pulled away first, into the throng of people desperate to hear what happened, how they won, how any of them managed to survive the day. It’s either the last thing she needs or the best thing for her, but either way she vanishes before Poe can step in, lost in the crowd that he barely got through himself. They’ll all have their fair share of it today, but for now it’s Rey’s turn; she led them into their last battle, faced the Emperor, kept them all fighting. There’s no one here that doesn’t want to hug her, and Poe doesn’t blame them for a second.

Besides, it gives him the chance he’d hoped for to slip away.

Poe squeezes Finn’s shoulder to get his attention amidst the noise and nods his head towards the base. Finn squints, confused, but follows him without a word.

It’s cold inside, out of the sun and flooded in the cool air that’s pumped through every inch of the base. It makes him shiver, like it always does, and there’s comfort in the familiarity after all the uncertainty and the fear. It’s quiet, too, as quiet as it’s ever been; everyone is outside, celebrating, posts abandoned for now in the thrill of a war won. This, this is unfamiliar, but it’s a welcome change. It means there’s no one around to watch Poe pull Finn in for another hug, arm around his shoulder and face hidden in his neck. Finn hugs him back, no hesitation before his arms are squeezing back. This is where he belongs, not up in an x-wing or in the cockpit of the Falcon - _here,_ in Finn’s arms, eyes shut tight against the world and no one to call him out on how tightly he holds on. It feels different, now, with no one watching them, private and intimate in a way that makes Poe ache, makes him _want_.

It’s almost too much, enough to tear down the barriers he’s so painstakingly built, but Poe can’t help it. His hands tighten in the heavy fabric of Finn’s jacket, and it takes everything he has to hold himself back, to not push this further. They’re friends, they’re friends, they’re just _friends-_

“You scared me.” His words are scratchy, torn from his throat without permission. Finn hums, a gentle sound that calms Poe more than it should. He’s safe, Finn is safe, they’re _together._

“I scared me too.” 

Poe can’t help but laugh, lets himself pull away from the hug and pretend his eyes aren’t watery, pretend Finn can’t see the tears building there. 

“I mean it. I thought we- I thought-” He chokes on the words, can barely force himself to say it. “I thought I was going to lose you.” 

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

“Finn-” It’s too much, too much, too much of himself bleeding out in front of Finn’s very eyes, but he can’t help it. He doesn’t know he’s going to say, what he wants to say, but Finn cuts him off before he has to find out. 

“I know.” 

He says it with such certainty, such conviction, that Poe wants to believe him, wants so desperately to believe him - but he can’t. How could Finn know? How could Finn _possibly_ know how scared he is every time he has to lead his squadron on a mission, how much he aches to watch Finn leave for his? How every mission and every fight is so much more terrifying, now, knowing he could lose Finn at any moment, that he can’t always be there to protect him? How no base ever felt like home before, how he can barely remember having a home at all, but that _anywhere_ feels like home as long as Finn is right there with him? 

Finn drags him in for another hug. Poe doesn’t react fast enough, just lets himself get pulled in and takes comfort in it, in Finn. The familiarity of his body, of the rise and fall of his chest and the steady presence of his hands. Another day, and Poe would worry; too many hugs, too many lingering touches, and people will talk. Not today. Today they celebrate the fall of the First Order; there is no such thing as too many hugs. This is where he belongs, in Finn’s arms. This, _this,_ being so close - it’s all he wants, all he’s ever dared to want, but- he can’t. There’s guilt inside him that’s threatening to spill over, guilt that he’s carried all the way from Kijimi to Exogol and back to the base. He can’t just ignore this, as much as he’s tried, and the longer he waits the more it’ll sting. It takes all his will to push Finn away, all his resolve to look him in the eyes.

“Finn, I need to know, are we-” Poe takes a deep breath, exhaling in a weary sigh. He’s exhausted, suddenly, the weight of the day finally catching up with him, all the stress and the fear that's passed and what’s left to come. He wants to lie down, wants to sleep, but he can’t. He needs to know. "Are we good?” 

“Poe, we just won the war, of _course-”_

The smile on Finn’s face is intoxicating. It’s a smile Poe has never seen before, not like this - it’s a smile that holds nothing back, that screams joy and demands that everyone else joins in. It’s like there’s nothing weighing on him, any more, like everything is good in the world. And it is. It should be. They’ve won and they’re safe, and Poe wants to join in, wants to let that brilliant smile infect him too, wants wants _wants_ \- 

“That’s not what I meant.” 

It comes out harsher than he intended, and Finn draws back, frowning. He searches Poe’s face, trying to understand, and Poe sees the subtle shift of his mouth the moment he realises. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Poe, I- It doesn’t matter. I don’t care about that-” Finn winces, remembering all the jabs he’s taken at Poe in the past twelve hours. “Not _really_.”

“You should care. I was a spice runner.” 

“And I was a Stormtrooper.” 

“You never chose that, you-” 

“Chose to leave. Just like you.” 

Poe sighs. Finn makes it sound so simple, so easy, but it does nothing to silence the guilt twisting in his gut. He can’t meet Finn’s eyes, can’t face the thought of what he might find there - betrayal or bitterness or _disgust_. 

He wants to pull away. Put more space between them so he doesn’t have to face this, to run away like he always has. Cut everything and _run_ . He wants to be closer. To be comforted. He wants to feel like he deserves to be comforted, knows he doesn’t deserve it but is selfish enough to want it anyway. There’s too much space between them, a damning three feet that Poe isn’t brave enough to close. He would follow Finn to the edge of the galaxy, but this, _this_ is a line he’s too afraid to cross. Instead, he lets himself fall back against the wall, lets the cold metal hold him up, even as it saps his warmth and leaves him wanting more than ever to be back in Finn’s arms - selfish, _selfish_ , to want so desperately for something he can never have. 

“I should have told you.” 

Finn shrugs, easy and carefree. 

“It’s okay. You’re not that person any more.” Finn’s words are comforting, but they don’t make Poe feel any better. He makes it sound so simple, and Poe wants to believe him, _wants-_ But he still _was_ that man, once, still did those things. Finn watches him as if he can see the thoughts racing, watches his eyes for any subtle sign that his attempt to cheer Poe up is working. He doesn’t find what he's looking for, so he tries again. “I guess there’s a lot we still don't know about each other.” 

And there it is. They’ve known each other for such a short time, really, lived whole lives before they even met, and yet - 

He wants to know Finn. He wants to know _everything_. He wants to be known in return, for Finn to know him, wholly and completely. It sounds so simple. So easy. To be known. It’s not simple, and it won't be easy - might just be one of the hardest things he’s ever done - but it’s worth it. Fuck, he hopes it’ll be worth it.

“I was- Finn. I need you to understand. After my parents died, I just- I didn’t want anything to do with it, any more. The Republic and the _war_ we all knew was coming, and- I was so lost. I did what I had to do to survive. I was _nobody_ , I just-” He almost can’t bring himself to finish, the weight of his words forcing his eyes closed. He never thought he’d let Finn see him like this, never thought he’d want anyone to know the man he used to be, the man he truly is. Selfish, _selfish,_ he never wanted anyone to think less of him, but he needs Finn to know, to know him, no matter the consequences. “My parents were good people, raised me to- but without them, I was- I was nobody. And I did wha- I did- I did horrible things, Finn.”

The silence is heavy, only their breaths and the air con rasping out. It’s heavier than anything he's ever known, carrying the possibility that Finn will walk away from it all, away from him. After everything he's done, all the terrible things he wishes he could forget, nothing compares to this.

Poe opens his eyes at the first touch of Finn’s fingers against his face. He flinches as the hand drifts to cup his jaw, as Finn’s thumb brushes his bruised cheek. Part of him wants to pull away, sure that Finn can’t mean to be touching him like this, but he can’t bring himself to do it. There Finn is, closer than ever, dark eyes locked with Poe’s and burning with the same fire as when they first met, as beautiful as he’s ever been. Poe wants to kiss him now, as he had wanted to back then, and just like then he knows he can never let himself do it. Can never let himself cross that line.

“You’re not nobody, Poe Dameron. You’re _not_. You-” Finn squeezes his own eyes shut now, but only for a moment. When he opens them, there's something there that Poe recognises, barely dares to hope that it's what he thinks.

“You’re the best damn pilot I’ve ever met. You’re a brave soldier, and a _brilliant_ leader. You’re kind and gentle and you’re an _idiot-”_ Finn can’t help but laugh, making their noses bump against each other ever so slightly. They’re close together, too close together - but Poe doesn’t pull back, and neither does Finn. “And I don’t care what you did. You never cared I was a Stormtrooper. I’ve done horrible things, too, but- you made me want to be a better man. You’ve _always_ made me want to be a better man. You’re _everything_ , Poe.”

Finn presses their foreheads together, oh so gently, a touch that has Poe quaking. He lets himself pretend it’s the chill of the metal behind him, not the warmth of the man in front of him. He closes his eyes - its too much to hope for, too much, too much-

“Finn, I-”

Finn kisses him, steady and sure, the first breath back on solid ground. It’s too much, too much, it’s- Poe doesn’t let himself falter, and kisses him back, _desperate_ , hand clutching at the zip of Finn’s jacket. It feels like flying, _better_ than flying, his heart skipping like he’s breaking out of atmosphere, like he’s flying into new skies with nothing to hold him down. He’s never felt anything like it, never felt so free, and he knows that he’d give up flying altogether to keep it from ending, spend the rest of his life on the ground if it meant he could have this, have _Finn,_ for good. 

Finn pulls away - he has to, both of them smiling too much to possibly maintain the kiss. Poe doesn’t mind. He can’t stop grinning, can’t stop the laugh that bursts out of him. Finn is grinning, too, radiant as ever, is laughing the laugh that Poe could never tire of. They can’t keep kissing, but they can’t stop touching, noses bumping, hands fawning- it might be embarrassing, if anyone else was here, but they're alone and there's no reason to stop. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

Poe laughs. “Oh, I promise I do.”

“Oh yeah? How long?”

“Since the day I met you.”

“Well, you must’ve been delirious. You had been tortured.”

“And you were my knight shining armour.”

“See, now I _know_ you were delirious, ‘cause I think you’re thinking of Phasma.”

Poe laughs, easy and carefree. Nothing has changed, nothing has changed, but _everything_ has. All this time he could’ve had everything he wanted, could’ve had this since the start, if only he’d been brave enough to tell Finn how he felt. Even still, he can’t regret the wasted time, is too happy to regret any of it. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Finn. I was- I’m-” Poe takes a deep breath, but his eyes stay open this time, and the barest hint of a smile on his face. It's so much less terrifying, now, to spill his guts with Finn’s hands holding him together. “I was only with them for a few months, and I- I’m so ashamed of the person I was then. I wanted you to like the man I am _now._ ”

“I do like him.” Finn kisses him, the gentlest brush of his lips. “Quite a lot, actually.”

“You’ve got good taste,” Poe says, the feel of Finn’s lips against his enough to let him fall back on this tried and tested arrogance. “Impeccable, even.” 

“Debatable. I just kissed some laserbrain flyboy fresh from the cockpit.” Finn wrinkles his nose. “Or, not so fresh, actually.” 

“Well, hey now, I hear he just pulled off a pretty impressive attack on the First Order.” Finn hums in response. “Best pilot in the Resistance, they say.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Oh yeah. And the General, too.” 

“Eh, that’s not so impressive.” 

“No? Think you’re too good for the General of the Resistance, do you?” 

“Yeah, pretty much.” 

Poe can’t help but laugh, cutting off any response he could fling back. Finn is grinning, and it’s easy to smile with him; nothing has changed. It’s still just them, just them, the same fond bickering. Fonder than Poe had dared to hope before, in fact. 

The thought seems to occur to Finn, too, and his grin fades to a soft smile, affectionate and enamoured. There’s a serious look about him, now, even as he gives the lapels of Poe’s flight suit a gentle tug to get his attention. It’s hard for Poe to concentrate, to pull himself away from their easy teasing, but he makes himself focus. 

“I'm not mad you didn't tell me. I get it, you just- you could've told me. You don't have to worry about telling me anything. _Especially_ about you. And-” Finn takes his hand and squeezes it gently, so gently, but it makes Poe’s heart jump. “I’d love to hear more about your parents, if you want to talk about it.”

Poe leans his forehead against Finn’s, can’t help it. It should be embarrassing, to be so affectionate so soon, but he can’t _help_ it. He’s wanted this for so long, it’s like he can’t bear to waste any more time.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” He takes a breath, eyes falling closed. “Thank you, Finn.”

They’re already so close, it’s easy to close the gap. It’s Poe who moves first, this time, less desperate now, soft and yielding and - there’s no rush. There’s plenty of time for this, for slow kisses and idly wandering hands. For whatever might come later, in the safety of their bunks at night, or later, later still, when the war is far behind them and all the horrors of the past year are just a distant memory. There’s no rush, no rush, just the two of them and a future away from all the fighting. 

This, kissing Finn, it’s more than he ever imagined it could be, because it’s all _real;_ Finn’s lips against his, Finn’s hands on his waist, _Finn_ \- He’s drunk on it. Doesn’t want it to end. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this happy, this at home, and- 

It’s overwhelming. There have been others before, but it’s never felt like this. For the first time, he knows he wants this forever, wants that future with Finn. It should be scary, _terrifying,_ to want Finn so much, for good, but it’s hard to be scared with Finn pressed so close. He wants Finn, and Finn wants him. What more could he ask for? 

There's a cough beside them, and they both pull back, dazed. 

“Uh, sorry, General?” There’s another cough, and they turn to look in tandem. There, barely a few metres away, is Lieutenant Connix. Poe feels himself flush. He doesn’t know how long she’s been there, how much she saw, but by the bemused smile on her face it was more than enough. Even so, he can’t bring himself to pull away, to drop his grip on Finn’s jacket or to shrug Finn’s hands from his waist. “Sorry to interrupt, Poe, but we need you in command for debriefing.”

Finally Poe straightens himself up and clears his throat, all business, but he still can’t force the smile from his face.

“Of course, Lieutenant.” 

She doesn’t wait for more, smile breaking into a grin as she turns on her heel and heads back to command.

Finn is unfazed, and presses a quick kiss to the corner of Poe’s mouth.

“Well off you go, then, General.”

Poe huffs a laugh. As if. 

“After you, General.” Finn frowns, forgetting for just a moment his impromptu promotion, and Poe raises his eyebrows. “What? You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Now Finn laughs, carefree, finally carefree, and Poe can’t help but take his hand like he’s wanted to so many times. Poe sets off towards command, giving Finn the gentlest tug of the hand to get him moving too.

There’s still a lot more work to do. There’s still battles to fight, the First Order to dismantle, entire planets to liberate. A Republic to rebuild. A lifetime’s work, really. But he has the Resistance behind him, Leia’s memory with him, and Finn beside him. He has everything he needs and he knows, for the first time, that there’s nothing he can't do.

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> "At length their long kiss severed, with sweet smart:  
> And as the last slow sudden drops are shed  
> From sparkling eaves when all the storm has fled,  
> So singly flagged the pulses of each heart."  
> \- Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Nuptial Sleep


End file.
